MISS NEVILLE. I come. Pray be pacified. If I leave you thus, I shall die with apprehension.
Enter Servant.
SERVANT. Your fan, muff, and gloves, madam. The horses are waiting.
MISS NEVILLE. O, Mr. Marlow! if you knew what a scene of constraint and ill-nature lies before me, I’m sure it would convert your resentment into pity.
MARLOW. I’m so distracted with a variety of passions, that I don’t know what I do. Forgive me, madam. George, forgive me. You know my hasty temper, and should not exasperate it.
HASTINGS. The torture of my situation is my only excuse.
MISS NEVILLE. Well, my dear Hastings, if you have that esteem for me that I think, that I am sure you have, your constancy for three years will but increase the happiness of our future connexion. If——
MRS. HARDCASTLE. (Within.) Miss Neville. Constance, why Constance, I say.
MISS NEVILLE. I’m coming. Well, constancy, remember, constancy is the word. [Exit.]
HASTINGS. My heart! how can I support this? To be so near happiness, and such happiness!